Of Captain and Country
by Musingsage
Summary: Aware of Amelia's dual identity as America, Steve Rogers accepts the position as her head of security and moves in with her. Latest chapter: Amelia's perspective on resent events. Fem!America, companion to Reunion.
1. Meet Tony

A/N: Hey all. So, _Of Captain and Country_ will be a series of short stories, and this is a companion to _Reunion_. The topics will range from humorous to serious, to god knows what, at some point I may ask for suggestions. In a review for _Reunion_ GenderBender25 asked about working Germany in, so this'll be where Cap meets him.

Disclaimer: I own only the wacky ideas found in here.

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After his appointment as head of America's security detail, he moved into one of her spare rooms. The first two weeks went smoothly, nothing that his subordinates warned him about happened and no other Nations came to visit. During the short time, Rogers adopted a big-brotherly attitude towards her. Sure she hated it, but it worked well with their dynamic.

A couple hours after the morning run on Saturday, Rogers left to return a few books to the local library and buy a few he liked. While that meant leaving America without a guard for a couple hours, he trusted that she would be fine. It wasn't like anything bad could happen in that short a period of time. Sure, the others claimed things went wrong in less time, but he had yet to witness anything to the contrary.

When he arrived back at the town house, he heard her talking to someone. He detected two new voices, one which he recognized as Canada, and the other he never heard before. It was probably another Nation. The three of them were playing video games by the sound of it. Entering the living room, he found America, Canada and a grey alien sitting upside down on the sofa playing Mario Cart. Never in his life had he seen a stranger sight.

"Hey Steve," America called, "You remember Mattie right?"

The other Nation briefly acknowledged his presence; he laughed when he knocked his sister off the Rainbow Road. In response America punched him.

"And that's Tony," she waved at the alien.

"What's he doing here?"

"He lives here. He just came back from visiting his family. Apparently his little brother has become very fond of Photoshop."

"Since when has he lived here?"

America glanced at him, "Since Roswell."

The gray creature said something that sounded like swear words, but America translated for him, "He says it's nice to meet you."

"A pleasure to meet you too Tony," Rogers said to the alien. "Does Furry know about him?"

"Maybe. It's hard to tell. Don't worry, the powers that be are fine with him."

Who was she talking about? "I should hope the President knows."

"Of course _he_ does, but so do the Men In Black."

"Who?"

For some reason America burst out laughing, and a scowling Canada knocked her back off the track.

"They're a top secret organization that deals with extraterrestrials living on earth. They're head quartered in New York, just two blocks from Stark Tower actually."

It sounded like a series of movies she told him about when he first started living with her. Perhaps she decided to mess with him, perhaps she told the truth.

"Does Furry know about them?"

"Course not. They erase their agents' identities when they join and then replace their memories when they retire."

"Alright then…" he had no idea what else to say. Instead of commenting, he took his books to his room and settled down to read. While he wondered why she never mentioned Tony before, he realized he would have to get used to strange things happening. This might help him prepare for that trip across the Outback; America said that the last time they cross the Outback she and Australia wrestled crocodiles and boxed with kangaroos. What had he gotten himself into?

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A/N: Poor Rogers, he has no idea just how crazy life with America can get.


	2. In Memoriam

A/N: A slightly belated chapter in honor of Memorial Day.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Everyday since May began Memorial Day crept every closer. Each day, Steve watched Amelia for some clue as to how she dealt with the holiday. Despite everything he lost, and the friends dead and gone, he knew she lost so many, many more and missed them dearly. How could she face the pain this holiday must bring? All those lives lost in her name; her inability to prevent wars that served no purpose but to prove Eisenhower right.

So far as he could tell, Memorial Day changed nothing. Her life continued as normal, the same silly phone calls, the pranks, the routine he had learned rolled along unabated.

This was his first Memorial Day since waking up, and he looked to her for clues on how to commemorate his fallen comrades. From the SHIELD files he knew most of them were buried in Arlington Cemetery. No one he remembered, save Peggy, survived this long. They lived full, long lives filled with further adventures, love and laughs that he missed out on. Undoubtedly they must have done something in his memory each year. He wondered what. Knowing Dum Dum Dugan, he didn't put it past them to have met up, drunk and sung songs. The image amused him, but left him longing to travel back in time and join them.

He missed his friends. When his thoughts lingered on them it hurt, tears welled in his eyes and he retreated to conceal his misery. Worst of all, as the day approached, he recalled how he failed Bucky. He failed them all when he didn't make it back. To put them through the pain and sorrow of his supposed death, but to know what they never would—that he survived—broke him some nights. All those dear friends hoping for them all to be reunited in death and learn that he never died at all… What Peggy must have gone through…

Alone in the town house, Steve let his head hit the living room wall. The weight of his choices collapsed on his shoulders. If he hadn't tried to enlist that day at the World Fair and met Dr. Erskine he would have lived out his life; he would have been a completely normal person. He wouldn't be here dreading the arrival of Memorial Day.

But would the other man selected have fit Erskine's criteria? Would he have saved Bucky? Would he have had the will to take down Red Skull instead of spending the war as a lab rat or dancing monkey? What if? What if?

What if he hadn't? He wouldn't have met any of them. There was a good chance HYDRA would have killed them all during their experimentations. What about Peggy? Bucky? Stark? Dum Dum? Jim Morita? Gabe? Jacques? Monty? Without him would any of them had the chance to live their long, happy lives? Perhaps, perhaps not. Perhaps they would have been better of never knowing him. Maybe another man would have made the same calls and defeated Skull sooner.

"Second guessing doesn't do you any good you know."

When had she gotten back from her errand? Steve looked at his charge; her blue eyes soft and understanding. He almost asked how she knew what he had been brooding about, but realized she must have done it herself and seen the same expressions on countless others. In her eyes he suddenly felt so small and insignificant, just one more in a long line of faces and names.

"Peggy once told me, about sixty-odd years ago," she claimed a chair across from him, "that she couldn't imagine her life without having known you and that she didn't want to. Never think that it could have been anyone else, because it was you; other possible outcomes only matter when thinking of the future. You changed their lives, gave them something to fight for even after you disappeared. You changed my life. Think about what you've done now, the effect you're having today. Remember and honor the past, but don't let it hold you back and keep your eyes on the horizon."

After waiting in vain for him to reply, she stood and turned to leave him in peace, and to mull over her advice.

"One of England's pearls of wisdom?"

"Uncle Inuit's actually," a soft, melancholy smile graced her features, "it's a long story."

"What's in the bags?"

For a split second Amelia vanished, replaced by America, but it passed before she spoke, "things for remembering and honoring the past."

"Can I see?"

Fascinated, he watched as she knelt next to the coffee table and pulled out various items. Among the items were candles, incense and a collection of military flags. The shear variety of candle amazed him, each of them handmade. One by one she explained their purpose, which she would light at memorials for which wars and, which ones she would keep in her house and light in front of pictures on Memorial Day. When she finished, she added that her family would be gathering at her house out in the country on the 26th, just as many of her people would be. She added at she had Matthew always cooked a feast, just as their Onhula (mother) taught them long ago. Before he could say anything, she declared that he would be joining them, unless he had plans to visit New York and spend the day with Tony and Bruce.

He accepted the offer. A group of Nations understood the pain of outliving loved ones and others they cared about. They shared the bitter grief that accompanied watching or hearing of friends dying of old age and, knowing they could not join them.

The day before Memorial Day, Amelia returned home with a large collection of roses. When he asked, she explained that though it's not a common flower to leave on graves, she leaves it because it's her national flower.

Along the mantel piece pictures and candles had replaced knick-knacks and other ornaments. To his surprise, he finds pictures of his lost friends among her presidents, generals and dear friends. The photo of FDR makes him smile. He can imagine the president laughing at her jokes just in time for her to snap the photo. Lincoln looks more relaxed than in photo Steve saw before; Amelia Earhart grinned, an arm slung over an air plane. Those photos joined Martin Luther King Jr., Jesse Owens, Lyndon Johnson, Brooker T. Washington, Susan B. Anthony, Benjamin Franklin, Eisenhower, John Marshall, and Hemmingway, along with so many others that she had the room impressed him. Towards one end she had gathered the photos of his friends and family.

Together they lit the line of candles.

"My friends," she whispered, "I miss you every day. Thank you so very much for being a part of my life, for shaping my existence. Thank you for you care, your concern and most of all thank you for being you. I don't know who I would be without you all, and I don't want to. I…" her voice choked, "I love you."

Whether the teenager or the Nation spoke, Steve couldn't tell and he suspected this was a rare moment in which they were one and the same.

Following her lead, he tried to say something to his friends. Nothing came to him no matter how hard he tried. So much bubbled at the tip of his tongue, waiting for him to utter it, but it was more than he could say in a life time. Unable to think of anything that wouldn't leave him rambling, he went for the simple, "I miss you, I love you and we'll meet again one day."

What happened to Nations when they died? What could be so powerful as to kill them? He almost asked but, the look on Amelia's face begged for silent remembrance of their dead friends.

"Good-bye."

That was the first time he said those words out loud. Since he woke up he never let them slip, fearing it would make this permanent, as if somehow by holding them back he could return to his time or this would turn into some strange dream. But they were dead and gone. Nothing could bring them back, and it would be a long time before he joined them in whatever awaited beyond death. Amelia wrapped and arm about his shoulder, a silent comfort but all he needed to break and sob. A moment of weakness he would never let anyone else see but, she held him through it all.

Come morning they visited Arlington Cemetery and she showed him around. With her guiding the way, he helped her lay roses at each of the war memorials within and outside the cemetery.

He let her lead him to the graves of the Howling Commandos. Their graves lay in front of a wall commemorating their service. The finality of it all hit him again.

"You guys…you were really something you know? Dum Dum, remember that time you tried seducing that French waitress and her husband chased you out of the bar with a carving knife?" A hundred different, silly tales surfaced and it felt so good to retell them, even if it was to a bunch of head tones. "Bucky," Bucky had a plaque but no grave, "you always looked after me, keeping me safe even from myself. Where would I have been without you? Jerk… brother… I miss you so much. I wish I could have saved you that day; then you could have joined the others in their adventures. I'll toast you tonight, and every Memorial Day for as long as I live. I owe you more than that, but it's the best I can do. Good-bye guys, until later."

Just as Amelia did, he laid roses at their graves.

_"Steve," his mother whispered as she lay dying, "people never die so long as you hold them in your heart. I'll always be there, I promise."_

Since he lived and remembered, they existed. So long as Amelia survived, so would he and so would they.

Turning to look over the rows of grave he caught a glimpse of her burden. How many buried here had she personally known? How many could she tell stories about?

Steve joined her at the front gate, her eyes red and faint tear stains on her cheeks but, it looked like her load had lightened. Like a chance to grieve and remember offered her relief that nothing but death could.

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Later that day, between the commotion that came with her family gatherings, Amelia found a moment alone. From her chair, she watched Steve laugh with Matthew and Kyle of over something that irritated William. She laughed at William took his frustration out on Arthur, as always blaming him for raising them wrong.

She didn't have the heart to tell Steve that she always knew he survived. A gift from Onhula let her anticipate the future, and she knew she would need Steve in the coming years. All his doubts aside, only he fit the bill of what she would need, something she knew when she approved Erskine's choice. Knowledge of what the future hid kept her from telling anyone he had been cryogenically frozen; learning that would destroy his trust in her, even with Erskine's fail safe.

That Bucky too lived she knew, but now how or why. Someone kept him captive; someone twisted his mind. Steve would help him recover when the truth came out.

Stark might think that Fury's secrets had secrets, but on one kept them better than Nations. Some days her burden attempted to crush her; she kept going because she had to. Just like Steve and her kindred, she soldiered on because she would never have another choice.

Steve might think he understood.

He didn't.

He never would.

One day, he would become just another face and name, dear to her as any who came before him. Of course she would miss him and, she would cherish his memory too.

Another name, another face, another friend lost to the ultimate villain—time.

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A/N: The ending turned out differently than I expected, and more ominous? melancholy? than intended. But America keeps secrets, and the way I envision Nations work, they can determine if a citizen is a live or not. As for Erskine's 'fail safe' well, let's just say that the fic has gained the semblance of a plot and, the truth will be revealed later on, when I end this. Or maybe not (be revealed in the last chapter I mean but, you will find out eventually).

Reviews=treats for my muse

Kyle= Australia

William= Scotland

Onhula= my version of Native North America, not her name but just how Matthew and Amelia refer to her. According to what I read about Iroquoian culture, after someone dies a feast is held a year later to celebrate the soul reaching the after life.


	3. Pardon Me

A/N: Hello, hello, hello. Sorry about the wait, but I've got to prioritize. Thanks a bunch to all of you for your support, it means a lot to me.

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Any idea that a World Conference would be a calm dignified event, a time when the Nations gathered to discuss solutions died with the first spit ball. Though, Steve Rogers chalked that up to Amelia and Mexico's history. Then Denmark dumped a bucket of water balloons on Norway, and South Korea stuffed Vietnam's chair with raw fish, and Hungary chased Prussia around with a frying pan. The level of sheer chaos made him wonder _if_ they _ever_ managed to get anything accomplished. A hope that America would be the responsible one keeping things in order, withered up when she put jalapeño juice in Russia's vodka, and spent the first session playing tic-tac-to with Canada.

"Is always this bad?" he asked Lena Schmidt, Germany's body guard who attended the Conference too.

Security at the thing bothered him. Brazil had stuffed them into a random building scheduled for demolition. According to America this was in case the Nations demolished it during the Conference on their own; something, according Alexis from Canada's detail, highly likely. Every Nation brought two guards, one who stayed in the building and the other who patrolled the perimeter.

Lena, a stocky black haired, blue eyed woman in her late 30s, shrugged, "This is surprisingly calm actually. Still, it's only the first day."

Well, that didn't bode well for the rest of the week.

"Why are the meetings only every two months?"

Joining them from the break room, Alexis leaned against the wall, peeling an orange, "Any more often and they get on each others' nerves, any more infrequently and they feel like they have to make up for lost time. That or they drop in on each more than they already do. After about twenty years of these things, the bosses decided that every two months meant the least amount of chaos." Alexis Grammel was the oldest guard still in service, a veteran of the Royal Mounted Police before that he joined Canada's detail. "I'm guessing they're waiting for something. The last time it was this calm they ganged up on Brazil for something."

"What?" Lena inquired.

"Not sure, no one talks about it, something to do with some kind of head count."

Everything fell quiet when Russia rose, "Before we move on, we have a matter to discuss." The blond Nation, Steve hadn't spoke to him yet, looked directly at America. "Amerika, the new head of your security, who is he?"

"Steve Rogers, a former Captain from my Army," Amelia rolled her eyes, "I told you all that when Santos hired him. Besides, it's not your problem who I pick."

From the door, Steve, Lena and Alexis watched as Afghanistan picked up the thread, "Some of us are just concerned about his lack of a history."

"No one questioned it when Russia chose a _victim_ of the _Red Room_ as the head of his."

"That was another time," Russia countered.

America raised an eyebrow, "Dude it was the Cold War. If I didn't question it then, what right do you have to question me _now_?" She snapped her fingers as if remembering something, "Oh, don't worry I'll tell her you said hi."

Huh, apparently Natasha knew all about the personified Nations, even serving as the head of Russia's security. He wondered what else Natasha knew that she would never tell him. From the look on Russia's face, and America's gleeful gloating, she loved to remind him that Natasha chose to serve her despite years working for Russia.

"That aside, America who is he?"

"A former Army Captain, that's all you need to know."

"None of us can find him in the lists of your officers."

"I never said _when_ he left active service."

Canada snickered.

Apparently fed up China snapped, "He's too young to be a retired Captain."

"So?"

"We need more information about him," China pressed.

She rolled her eyes, "Your head of security made a name for himself by planting spyware on servers for American corporations. Besides," she popped a grape into her mouth, "I thought you had more tactical sense than this."

Turning bright red, China almost retorted, but the 'go-ahead-and-embarrass-yourself-I've-got-all-day look on America's face shut him up. While refraining from refuting the claim proved that she was right hurt him, he didn't have to face the worse fate brought on by her sharing the evidence with the whole Conference.

Unfortunately, Russia continued, "Amerika…"

"Russia," she matched his condescending tone, but her's dripped with sarcasm.

"Who is he?"

"ENOUGH," Germany roared. The blond Nation, who Steve hadn't met yet, hauled South Korea from his chair, "It's time for the Republic of Korea to present his recent economic developments."

South Korea bounced up to the stage, "This is how my economy is doing da-ze!"

At least his presentation was interesting; several Nations kept cracking up at inside jokes.

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Later on that evening, America crashed in the large suit she shared with Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Seychelles and Hong Kong. Technically Hong Kong stayed with China, but he always dropped from the air vents in the evenings to join them.

"Amy," Kyle sat grooming his koala, "Why not just admit Steve's Captain America?"

"It's more fun tormenting Russia. Lord of the Rings Marathon?"

"But there's a documentary I want to watch!" New Zealand protested.

The other siblings turned bland expressions on their brother, saying in unison, "If it's to do with Sheep, go find Scotland and Wales."

"It's not sheep," he scoffed, "sharks."

America and Australia lunged for the remote, "What channel?"

On the side of the room Hong Kong looked up from his and Canada's chess game, "what did we do to deserve them?"

"Blame England," Canada shrugged.

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"Captain Rogers," Germany approached Steve Rogers that evening. Since America sent out a photo and basic information about her new head of security, he knew who he was. After seventy years, Germany final had the chance to do something he longed to.

The blond man smiled at him, "Hello sir, Germany isn't it?"

Trying to return the smile, Germany shook his hand, "_Ja_, it's a pleasure to finally met you."

"I'm sorry?"

"I know who you are," Germany replied, "I just vanted to say thank you. You helped save me from myself; I and the German people owe you a great debt. If you ever need anything then ask."

Whatever Rogers expected, Germany knew it wasn't an open expression of gratitude. The man fought to find something to say, smiling, but looking extremely embarrassed.

"I…thank you, but you don't owe me anything."

"Regardless, just ask."

A call of 'bruder' echoed down the halls. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Germany sighed. Next time he would leave Prussia at home; he would try anyway, maybe locking him the basement or something.

"_Auf wiedersehen_ Captain."

"_Bitte__ nennst du mich an __Steve"_

"Ludwig."

They shook hands again, Steve leaving to check on Amelia and Ludwig to find out what Prussia wanted and/or put an end to whatever trouble he had caused. Sometimes it sucked being the more responsible sibling.

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"So," Steve climbed out the car, "why are we in New York again?"

"I have to report the proceedings to Furry," America shrugged, "and I have to give some stuff to the other Avengers." Not for the first time she waved a briefcase at him, mischievous grin on her face. Whatever she had stashed in there, it was important, or so she claimed. Assurances that he would find out soon enough, and nothing in there was 'that bad' failed to ease his nerves.

The meeting with Fury went well; the director was pleased with, but suspicious of, the lack of chaos and destruction. Apparently that Hong Kong dropped beetle carcasses from the ceiling vents on England was the worst thing that happened marked it as a successful Conference. Steve had no desire to learn what a 'spectacularly unsuccessful' one entailed. Of course, Amelia told Fury all about Russia trying to get her admit Steve's full identity, which, to Steve's surprise, made the director laugh. At the end, Fury also asked what she carried in the briefcase; she brushed it aside with 'stuff', still wear that same grin.

"NAT!" Amelia yelled, waving erratically. Agents ignored the young Nation.

Steve turned to spot Natasha heading down the hall. A faint, bemused smile broke Natasha's bland expression, she didn't smile much so either she found Amelia really amusing or she trusted her more than she trusted anyone else. It floored him when Natasha returned Amelia's hug, however tentatively, her eyes filled with exasperation. Perhaps she was just used to Amelia's behavior and tolerated it. Despite hearing Amelia talk about Natasha during the Conference, it still surprised Steve that she knew her.

"Not running Cap ragged are you?"

"Course not, that would take more effort than I'm willing to put in," Amelia quipped.

"What's in the briefcase?"

That mischievous grin morphed into pure delight, "come to Stark Tower with us and you'll see."

Whether or not Natasha had something else to do already didn't seem to matter; she chattered with Amelia the whole way back to the car. A couple of times they glanced at him and spoke in Russian instead, but he caught every few words.

"Greetings Sir, Madams," Jarvis intoned from the elevator when they climbed in, "Shall I inform sir that you've arrived?"

"Nah," Amelia replied, "if he's not in the kitchen, tell him to go there and tell Bruce and Barton the same."

Steve sent Natasha a look asking if Clint knew about Amelia and she gave him a non-committal shrug. In return she silently asked about the briefcase, but he shrugged and rolled his eyes. Whatever Amelia kept in there, she refused to tell anyone, even Canada when he asked about it too. The documents dealt with all the Avengers, or at least most of them and Amelia wanted an audience. Though, she might also just start handing the stuff out and act as if it was nothing. No one could tell which she would choose, when or why. Largely, it depended on how dramatic she wanted to be.

By the time they reached the kitchen, the others had already gathered. Their arrival interrupted Tony demanding Jarvis tell him why his experiment was interrupted and who wanted him to go to the kitchen.

Like everything in Stark Tower, the kitchen was huge. The island in the center often served as a table during meals and meetings, with more than enough room for anyone who wanted to gather there.

"Spangles Squared, Natasha," Tony greeted them.

"Before you ask," Amelia spoke, "I was asked to drop some stuff off for all of you."

"What?" Clint asked, leaning against the island.

She shrugged, opening the brief case, "Not much, pardons, citizenships, medals."

Everyone did a double take.

Ah, Steve realize, that was the effect she wanted. Her uninterested tone delivered the line with more impact than a lot of pomp and circumstance would have; plus, Bruce hated too much pomp and frills.

"Bruce," she handed over an accordion folder, "this is from the President, India and Brazil."

Immediately the others crowded around as he opened it with trembling fingers. Inside, he found two full pardons from President Santos and President Rousseff of Brazil, along with formal citizenship for both Brazil and India, and an honorary medical degree from India's most prestigious medical university. Steve and the others congratulated him and clapped him on the back, but it would take a while for the shock to wear off. Few people ever gave him anything, and now he had the gratitude of three heads of state and was officially a freeman.

"You more than earned it Bruce," Amelia, no _America_, smiled at him. She looked like a proud mother, one whose lifelong convictions of the worth of her child had not only been proved right, but surpassed.

Unable to say anything, Bruce ducked into the bathroom to collect himself and wash away the happy tears. The moment he left the room, everyone's eyes turned back to Amelia.

"So, who's next?"

A simple manila folder went to Clint. Like Bruce he received a pardon, not for anything specific, but all previous transgressions against the United States.

Natasha received the same thing, along with a reinstatement of her Russia citizenship.

"You know," Tony remarked, "you've probably committed more crimes against the US than there's space to write it."

"True," she nodded.

"Oh yeah, Braginski says hi," Amelia passed another accordion folder to Steve.

Since there was nothing for anyone to pardon him for, he found documents declaring him a citizen of Ireland and Germany.

"Is this going to cause a problem with my security clearance?"

Tony rolled his eyes, "you receive citizenship in the country you helped defeat and _that's_ what troubles you?"

Laughing, Amelia replied, "No."

"Why Irish?" Clint frowned.

"I'm a first generation Irish Immigrant."

Bruce rejoined them then, looking like a crushing weight had been lifted off his shoulders and pulverized by the Hulk. Like the others, he marveled at the citizenships.

"Sorry Tony, no citizenship for you. Everyone insists that you're my problem and mine alone."

"Good, I'm a one Nation man."

Stifling her amusement, Amelia managed to keep her face neutral, "that's a relief."

Clint laughed, "oh, that sounds so wrong…" A confused look killed his amusement, "wait, 'one Nation man'? He's your problem alone?" Well, that answered whether or not Clint knew about Amelia's dual identity.

Furthering his confusion, everyone else started laughing, Natasha wore a bemused expression, but she didn't laugh.

"Agent Clint Barton, I'm Amelia Jones the personification of the United States of America. Hence why Tony calls Steve and I 'Spangles Squared'."

For a moment Clint opened and closed his mouth, trying to find anything to say. "Well…that's not the strangest idea I've heard. How long as everyone else known?"

Amelia mulled it over for a moment, "I met Steve during the war, but he didn't learn the truth until recently, the same time Tony, Bruce and Pepper did. Since then he's been my head of security. Natasha has known since…"

"'80," Natasha supplied.

Tony interjected, "we can tell stories later, what are these medals you've brought?"

"Ah, right." She stared each of them down one-by-one, "you _have_ to attend the award ceremonies. Don't worry Bruce, there's only going to be one large ceremony for your medal so that the attention won't all be on you."

Bruce frowned, "aren't you worried I might lose control?"

"No, why?" She sighed, "If you're worried, it can be a private ceremony."

"Please."

From the suitcase she pulled out a piece of paper, "I don't have the medals, you'll get them at the ceremonies. Natasha, you and Clint are to receive the National Intelligence Cross; both of you and Bruce will get the Presidential Citizens Medal." After a brief round of congratulations, she continued, "Tony, you get the Presidential Medal of Freedom. And Steve, you're going to receive both the Medal of Honor, well, that was given to you posthumously, but the boss wants to do a full ceremony, and Merkel insists on granting you the Bundeswehr Cross of Honor for Valor."

Tony whistled. "Right, we're going to lunch. Somewhere expensive to celebrate, Jarvis pick some place pricey."

"Very good sir."

"Oh, no no Tony," Bruce tried to get him to back down.

Grinning, Tony slung an arm around his shoulders and steered him towards the elevator, "Science Bro, it's not every day that you receive pardons, citizenship and a medal. We're celebrating. C'mon people."

"Tony," Steve sighed, "It's too late for lunch."

"It'll be an early dinner then Frozone."

Clint and Natasha followed on Tony's heels, with Amelia joining Steve at the back of the group. When he sent her a questioning look, her expression morphed into one Steve recognized as meaning another movie marathon. The gifts given to day floored him, but helped him understand his role in the modern world better than ever. A former enemy welcomed him into his home and granted him his highest military award; Steve had no idea what to tell Germany when he saw him for the ceremony. Beyond, 'thank you' and 'the honor's mine', he scrambled for the words to say. Fortunately, he had time to work it out.

Even Bruce, for all his protests, found no small measure of delight in the recognition he received today. Likely, for the first time in his life Bruce found himself showered with appreciation. He would grow used to it; Steve wanted him to.

For the first time since waking up, Steve believed he had finally found his footing. Here, with friends and companions who meant so much to him. All of them would attend his ceremonies, and he would attend theirs. Given the chance, their team would congeal; they had a chance to be more than friends—a family.

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A/N: Much longer than the last two. Yes, Amelia goes on movie Marathons with Steve as part of his pop-culture education. I figured that after everything that they've done, the Avengers deserved recognition. Natasha and Clint received blanket pardons just in case something was missed. As for Steve's German citizenship, I figured Germany would be pretty grateful for what he did and would want to acknowledge that in some fashion. Reviews, as always, are appreciated and helpful.

On Amelia and Natasha's relationship: Since Amelia is an expressive person, and likes to hug people, so Natasha puts up with it. Since Natasha defected and joined SHIELD, she's befriended Amelia. I may write something focusing solely on their history later.

Oh, I've got several ideas on what to write next, but would like some input. I'll post a poll, it'll be titles only. It'd be great to hear your input and I promise that which ever one has the most votes, will be the one posted next. When I have time anyway, and if I have time to write it before the Fourth of July (which I should).


	4. The Woman Made of Glass

A/N: Okay, so I broke my promise, but this insisted on being written. As always, your support is much appreciated. I'll keep the promise of writing whatever you guys vote for, but first, please vote.

Disclaimer: *shrugs*

* * *

No one needed to know. No one needed to know anything Amelia Jones planned, or how she got what she wanted without saying a word. Had she known about Steve's cryogenic suspension? More or less, but she never knew where he had landed. Unlike what most people thought, she rarely said anything she didn't intend to, or anything that might not work out as she planned. After all, her subtle, underhanded tactics won her the loyalty of Natasha Romanov.

Those same tactics freed her from continuing the pretense of being a guy. All these years later, that moment still brought a smile to her face. Playing into the fool everyone, even England, considered her, she broke the news to the world on her own terms. Delightfully, everything went according to plan.

And England claimed she couldn't keep a secret or plan anything. Not that her plans were elaborate; she favored the simple and improvised as necessary.

The day SHIELD located Steve, Fury had called her.

"America," he always called her 'America' with no one else in hearing range, or over the phone, "We located Captain America."

Maybe that's all Steve was to Fury and SHIELD, a missing supersoldier and national icon; the man behind the image mattered little to SHIELD. At least it matter more to Fury than it had to the previous two directors, but less than he had mattered to Peggy or Howard. Part of the reason she pushed for Fury as director was his understanding that a man, a good man, existed behind the propaganda.

While she had known Steve would be located soonish, she almost wanted them to leave him in the ice. Despite the usual push and pull between her two identities, both sides worried about Steve waking up and the world he would find. America feared his disappointment, because he represented the ideal that the Nation longed to emulate, but would never be able to. A more personal, selfish really, dread originated in the Amelia half. The girl wanted her friend to remember the innocence that existed back then; the girl hoped her friend would hold that image in his mind and thus give it some life. Any interaction between her and him would destroy those desires.

Though, it wouldn't be the first time she took a personal hit for her people, or her future.

"How is he?"

No is he alive, or is he dead, or 'I'll start planning the funeral', just acceptance that the serum kept him alive.

"We'll start de-thawing him as soon as the plane lands."

"Inform me when he wakes up."

While she planned on avoiding him for now, she wanted to ensure she always knew about his condition.

Before hanging up, Fury had asked, "Do you want to see him?"

"No."

"Jones," he had appealed to the human side of her, "you could help him make the adjustment."

Another director wouldn't have said that, but Fury wasn't just any director. She recalled the bright, idealist young man who first joined SHIELD. Like her, he too developed a realistic understanding of the world, and pessimistic if Amelia was honest with herself. Then again, his whole Avengers Initiative would receive more attention once Steve woke.

Part of her insisted that she say 'yes' and 'I'll be there by nightfall', but she reigned in the impulse. "Major Amelia Jones is dead, that's all Steve needs to know about me. I trust you can create the appropriate documents to convince him?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good, keep me apprised of the situation."

Of course, he followed her orders, more thoroughly than necessary. Naturally she saw right through his scheme; he hoped that by keeping her closely up to date would convince her to reconnect with him. Not that it worked.

Ever since Steve moved in with her, she wondered if Fury planned it all somehow; thinking that if he couldn't get her to go to him, he would have him find her. A risky gamble, one that paid off, it took a lot to outmaneuver her, and Fury knew that. Why else would he have told her that Steve spent his down time in the building in the observation deck rather than in the lobby? Being out maneuvered stung a little, but she admired how well he put it together. Opposed to letting him win completely, she got Steve to sign on as her Head of Security.

Before England adopted her, Amelia lived outside of politicking and subterfuge. Onhula ensure she stayed ignorant to it all; Amelia appreciated efforts, but they had been all for nothing. From the moment he took her in, England taught her politics, and how to maneuver, to a point anyway; she had long since surpassed him in skill.

Part of that training involved reading people and how to manipulate them with that insight. It worked with Colonel Phillips, Peggy Carter, Howard Stark, Nick Fury and even Natasha Romanov. She understood them, how they thought, their hopes and desires, and she could wield it against them. Yet, she struggled to predict Steve Rogers. Sure, she grasped how his mind worked, and his solid sense of patriotism should mean she could manipulate him.

She couldn't. For as long as she had known him, she had struggled and failed to. Maybe it wasn't that she couldn't, but that she _wouldn't_. Something about him rendered her unable to control him. At first, back in 1943, she hated it. Over time, after speaking to him on several occasions and developing a friendship, she preferred it that way. It was refreshing really. For the first time since Onhula passed away, she had someone in her life impervious to her calculations other than Matthew and Scotland. Just like Onhula, she had the skill to make him dance to her tune, but something intangible held her back. She liked it; it felt like she could actually trust him.

Amelia did the leg work to have him as her Head of Security; America could care less.

Despite her trust in Natasha, she felt no qualms about manipulating her. Sure, the ex-Russian hated it when she managed it early on, but she understood why. From the moment Natasha accepted Clint's offer for a different life, she realized it meant acknowledging that Amelia would manipulate her sometimes. She appreciated why too, and Amelia always conceded when Natasha confronted her. That understanding formed the foundation of her friendship with Natasha. Besides, trying to manipulate her had morphed into something of a game that both of them willingly played, and enjoyed. Occasionally, neither tried influencing the other, they would drop their guard and pretend to be normal friends for a few hours. Both of them needed it. It kept them sane. Assassin and Nation shared a mutual respect that confused everyone else.

A similar relationship would never work with Steve. For all she wished otherwise, if she admitted everything she had done, it would shatter his heart and any trust he had in her. With him around, she could explore the girl she was, to try find that sense of peace and lift her burden for a little while.

He needed her to adjust to the 21st century. She needed him to remember who she aspired to be once. Perhaps, with luck she might have the chance.

For a moment, she forgot the pain caused by reaching for the past, and the life it cost.

Only one Nation ever worked out her charade. Matthew was her twin, and she told him more than anyone; Scotland had helped create the character of 'Alfred;' Onhula taught her how to play the role, and Uncle Inuit often helped her keep it together.

Germany.

He had called her after the Chitari Invasion and Battle of New York. "Amelia, vhen vere you going to tell us that Captain America vas alive?"

"Since when do I have to tell you anything?" She had snapped back, the façade had slipped. After the battering she took during the battle just thirty minutes ago, she wanted to curl up in her bed and sleep the day away. Normally, she would have quipped something like 'right dude, sorry I forgot.'

Logically, since they spent so much time together after the war, he spotted the slip. Rather than call her out, he had sighed, "Vell, don't blame me vhen the others attack you for it at the next conference."

No need to say thank you, anything would have ruined their rare moment of perfect understanding. He understood her charade and the act she kept up, likely also how it wore her down. Though, not all of it was an act. Some was genuine, a scarce moment when her guard dropped enough for the girl to shine through. Sometimes nothing about her was real; Germany accepted that, and from his tone that day, he realized it years ago, but respected her enough to keep silent. A hundred other Nations, some her own family, would never have granted her that courtesy.

Only one other ever offered her than, and despite everything they had gone through, kept it to himself during the worst moments between them. That was why she fell in love with Kiku. Fortunately, she didn't have to manipulate him, but she would if necessary.

Rarely, she regretted the choices that underpinned her role.

Despite everything, she loved her life and enjoyed every minute of it. The dance on a wire suspended hundreds of feet above the ground exhilarated her. Undoubtedly she would get through the problems, survive her tests, and wave with a cheeky grin at the others.

In the end, that was her, the woman made of glass, but with the durability of vibranium. Everyone else could fuck off.

* * *

A/N: I thought it was important to delve into Amelia's perspective on events and to flush out her personality. This also might put events in 'Pardon Me' into perspective. Reviews are loved and cherished.


	5. The Morning After

A/N: A little late, but here's the Fourth of July short.

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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When Steve woke after the Fourth of July, it felt like elephants stampeded around his head. Though he hadn't gotten drunk since becoming a supersoldier, Steve remembered what it felt like. Groaning, he attempted to sit up, trying to recall where he was. Slowly, painfully slowly, he remembered meeting up with the rest of the Avengers at Stark Tower around noon the day before. After watching a fire work display, they returned to the Tower to drink, and so Steve could open a small pile of presents.

The fire work display floored him. The variety and that they could now spell out words and do things like smiley faces and stars amazed him. Sheer wonder and delight turned him into a small child again, thinking of the first time he viewed a large display. Like in his childhood, he stood with friends, watching and laughing as the bright colors lit up the sky. For the first time since waking up, he forgot everyone he knew was dead, or old and with deteriorating memories. Nothing beyond the companionship and light show mattered. At some point, he might have accidentally called Tony 'Howard,' but Tony let it slide. Even Natasha looked thrilled, what counted as her looking thrilled anyway. Everyone had burst out laughing when a couple of well placed fireworks made out his shield. Clint had ruffled his hair.

Collectively grinning, they returned to the Tower and insisted that Steve open his presents.

Natasha gave him throwing knives.

Clint had found a WTF note pad and WTF button, and put them in a bacon print gift bag. Thanks to Amelia, Steve understood what WTF meant and appreciated the sentiment. The button would come in handy around Tony, Clint or Amelia. Tony offered to reprogram it for a larger variety of comments, and to remove the profanity bleeper.

A brand new Stark phone came from Tony, and a wallet from Pepper.

Somehow Bruce located a collection of popular 50s vinyl records, which Steve could play on the record player Amelia owned.

Fury sent history books.

Though unable to be there, Amelia sent him an Irish American Heritage Stein, which she had filled with fresh cherries. Two months ago she decided that he didn't eat enough and tended to throw food at him, or tuck it in containers and things for him to find.

Ludwig apparently brewed a very strong batch of beer meant for people with above average metabolisms. A batch, he discovered, that could get anyone drunk. Clint drank one mug and slept the rest of the night.

Looking over, Steve saw Clint still sprawled out across the floor, using Natasha's shoe as a pillow. Natasha had curled up in a chair, and Bruce and Tony shared the sofa. Seeing that no one else looked inclined to move from their various positions, comfortable or otherwise, Steve debated getting up. Surprisingly, Bruce remained in his usual form, and hadn't Hulked out, despite drinking a decent amount of Ludwig's beer. It looked like beer brewed for Nations, could also relax the Hulk.

Rather than get up, Steve opted to fall back to sleep and sleep off his hangover. No one else looked inclined to so much as stir and Jarvis would alert them of trouble, or Pepper would come to get Tony.

(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)_(~)

Once everyone left, Amelia took stock of the mess and the gifts. Hong Kong nearly burned down a tree while fighting over fireworks with South Korea and Australia. Hungary had chased Prussia through the house with a bucket of paint; Seychelles filled the pool with sword fish, and then fought with others who tried to fish them out. England turned South Africa into a lion, instead of morphing Scotland into a sheep. A game of soccer had gotten out of hand and torn up her lawn. Several Nations decided to throw ice-cream at each other. Someone, she wasn't sure who but had a good idea, discovered a wooden box Iroquois gave her over a hundred years ago and unleashed the spirits contained within.

She, and everyone sleeping over, spent the night in the stable-turned-tool-shed.

By about four in the afternoon the next day, she and Matthew managed to get the spirits back in the box and lock them away.

"Who do you think let them out?" Matthew gasped as they sat against a wall, looking triumphant but exhausted, and still dealing with hangovers.

"France or Spain, the spirits wouldn't have reacted that badly otherwise, and England knows better."

A soft roar altered her to the irritated lion prowling around her house.

Maybe next year she'd have smaller party.

* * *

A/N: I wasn't sure what to do, so here's both title characters celebrating their birthdays separately. The gifts Clint gave Steve can be found in the Onion's store. Also, just a reminder the poll is still up and I will keep my promise. And, my muse loves reviews they make it happy and focus it's attention better, which helps me write.


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